Quinn’s Battle (Team KOA Bravo #4)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Quinn rolled over, breathing in the heady scent of Dahlia on his pillow. A heartbeat later he realized it was only her scent. Sitting up, he scrubbed at his face and looked around the cabin.

He was alone.

Swearing, he fell back and covered his face with a pillow. Waking up alone was not what he’d had in mind for this morning. His heart iced over with the familiar pain of being left behind.

Seriously? He couldn’t believe Dahlia would do that, not after he’d cracked open all those old wounds. He still wasn’t sure how she’d gotten any of it out of him. Maybe it was the affection he saw in her green eyes. And later, though he hated doing it, he’d reminded her that he wasn’t built for relationships.

So why the hell did his chest hurt that she wasn’t here?

Because failure sucked. First and foremost, he was her bodyguard and he had no idea where his charge was.

Angry with himself that she’d been able to sneak off, he surged out of bed. He hadn’t slept so hard in ages. And that wasn’t something he wanted to think about right now.

Maybe she was outside on the porch, coffee in hand as the sun came up. The spark of hope fizzled when he checked through the window. To hell with the natural view. Dahlia wasn’t on the porch and her bike was gone.

Then he saw the note on the table. Reading it quickly, he nearly crumpled it and threw it away. But it was from her and he couldn’t bring himself to trash it. When had he turned sentimental?

Not important.

According to the note, she’d gone surfing with her friends. Good to know, but that didn’t change the fact that she was out there alone and unprotected. He scrambled for his watch. Hell, she’d been gone for nearly an hour.

He forced himself to think critically. Did he expect the counterfeiters to jump her in broad daylight while she was surfing with her friends?

No.

Which was the only thing that kept him from calling up one of his pals to go check on them.

That and the embarrassment of having to admit he slept through a woman leaving his bed.

Quinn took several calming breaths as he started coffee and went to grab a shower.

If Dahlia hadn’t made the planned surf meet up, her friends would’ve sent up a flare by now. His bigger concern was her safety afterward. He had to get over there. He checked the app on his phone, confirming her location and breathing a sigh of relief that she was still at the beach.

He had to get moving. Griping and storming around the cabin wasn’t any kind of action plan. He didn’t want her alone and vulnerable.

Yesterday proved the counterfeiters were getting too damn comfortable. Hopefully Cassie or Hawk would have something helpful from their visit to the warehouse yesterday. Those had been big chances he’d taken with Dahlia and he had no intention of an encore performance.

She wanted to get back to work. He sympathized. But Steen had proven that he knew Dahlia too well.

Quinn knew he couldn’t keep her away from her shifts at Ohana or the resort forever. Dahlia took responsibility to new heights. As if her bosses at Ohana’s wouldn’t make adjustments or put her on paid leave. He took another deep breath before he got worked up again.

Breaking her routine yesterday had been an important tactic.

A small voice in his head called bullshit on that excuse. Yesterday’s picnic date had been a purely personal endeavor. Sure, he was motivated to keep her close and safe, but he’d gone out of his way to show her some romance. He’d wanted her to feel how special she was to him.

It worked too. At least for a few hours.

He reminded himself that her leaving wasn’t a rejection. Well, he didn’t know that for sure. But Dahlia wasn’t his mom or the foster system, or his former fiancée. She’d left a note and, true to character, kept her commitment to her friends.

It should’ve been enough to ease his mind.

Although no one on Steen’s crew could get onto the ranch, they could catch her anywhere on public roads. Although they still didn’t know why Steen was so interested, they had to assume he was still set on finding her. Likely more determined after yesterday.

Quinn assumed Steen had recruited locals who would be as familiar with the island as Dahlia. Knowing that, why would she take the risk of going anywhere without him?

With the towel wrapped around his hips, he stepped out of the bathroom. The rumpled bed mocked him. Was he the reason she’d gone off on her own?

Hard to come up with an alternate conclusion. He’d thought last night was great. What an understatement. More like fabulous. The way she’d come apart in his arms was his every fantasy come true. And yet, she hadn’t bothered to wake him up before she left.

He pushed that annoying insecurity aside, dressing in a hurry. They’d discuss it as soon as he caught up with her.

Her handwritten note hadn’t indicated her plans for the rest of the day. She would probably go straight from the beach to her house and then check in on her brothers. As far as Quinn knew, she hadn’t spoken with them since the car fire.

He checked his phone. She didn’t have anything on her schedule until her shift at the resort this afternoon. A shift she needed to skip. He gulped coffee and devoured a protein bar in two quick bites before grabbing his keys. He’d just straddled the motorcycle, ready to start the engine, when his phone rang.

About time she checked in.

But it was Hawk’s number on the screen. He couldn’t let that go to voicemail. He swallowed the moment of panic that something had happened to Dahlia and answered as calmly as possible.

“Sorry to wake you,” Hawk said.

Was he kidding? “You didn’t.”

“Good.” Hawk’s voice sounded tense and Quinn was sure new orders were incoming. “I’ve got good news and bad. Which do you want first?”

“Bad news.” May as well front load all the unpleasantness this morning.

“Secret Service wants in on the action.”

“Huh?” Quinn was dumbfounded. “What does that mean?”

“Just what it sounds like. Counterfeiting falls under their jurisdiction. The pictures you and Dahlia sent to Cassie were enough to draw them in. The experts have determined the crew is bleaching the one-dollar bills and reprinting them as twenties and hundreds. Steen has been tied to similar activity on the mainland.”

Quinn did a rapid recalculation of what federal involvement meant for Dahlia. Of course he wanted to stop the fake money and the criminal operation behind the whole mess, but for him, she was the most important element of this case.

“It also means you can’t go off the rails,” Hawk deadpanned.

Quinn ignored that. His rails were firmly in place. He understood what Hawk was saying. As a SEAL on leave, Quinn wasn’t exactly the first-choice of personnel the feds would want involved in any kind of takedown or evidence seizure. But he didn’t trust anyone else to keep Dahlia safe.

“I’m not relinquishing her protection.” He was not negotiating that point.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that. Just be careful. I’ve been told the feds have been after the lawyer—Morton—for a while. Any cowboy stunts and they’ll come down on us like a ton of bricks.”

“Got it,” Quinn said. “What’s the good news?”

“While you watch over Dahlia, I convinced them to let Flint, Carter, and Bowie handle a surveillance op.” Hawk sounded pleased. “They need to get a lead on how they’ll move that money off the island.”

“You don’t think they’re trying to flood the market here?” Quinn asked.

“Anything’s possible,” Hawk allowed. “If that was the case, I think there would be a bigger uptick on funny money, but the experts claim that isn’t happening.”

“Has to be that trawler tied to the import-export company,” Quinn said, thinking out loud. “Paper money makes for a heavy load in a plane.”

“Agreed, but we need solid intel,” Hawk said. “I have drones and gear ready to go.”

“Keep me in the loop,” Quinn said. He decided to get some advice while he had Hawk on the phone. “Dahlia wants to work, though I’d rather keep her out of the public eye. Is there a preference?”

“I’m sure the feds will want access to her,” Hawk said. “Probably best to keep her at the ranch until that interview is done. They’ll want as much privacy as possible.”

“Got it.” Quinn suspected Hawk knew Dahlia was currently off the ranch.

So once he caught up with her, it would be just the two of them for a while. He’d start with an apology and grovel if necessary. Anything to make the situation easier on her.

He didn’t take an easy breath until he saw her, safe with her friends. Her wet hair was pushed back from her face, her cheeks glowing and her smile bright. Until she saw him.

The smile dimmed and he regretted all his choices.

He would find a way to make this up to her.

“Morning,” he said to her friends flanking her. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“We just called it,” Mia said. “Good morning, Quinn.”

Emery and Moana were more aloof than usual as they passed him. “Take care of our girl,” Emery said.

“You’re mad,” Dahlia said as soon as the others were out of earshot.

“No,” he denied. “I’m glad you’re safe. Disappointed that I did something that drove you to take such a big risk.”

“Hm.” She leaned on her surfboard. “Is that an apology?”

He glanced around the beach. “I am sorry.” He knew his words had been harsh last night. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her chin came up. “I’ll cope with my own feelings,” she said. “Now tell me the rest.”

“The rest?”

She waved a finger at his face. “I can see you have news.”

He chuckled, amazed by her all over again. He explained the call from Hawk and the pending interview with the Secret Service. “They’re going to finish what you started, Dahlia.”

Without a word, she picked up her board and stalked toward her vehicle. “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“No.” Stowing her board, she turned to face him. “I’ll stay on the ranch for the interview. Then I’m going to the bar to work.”

“Why?”

She pressed her lips together and looked out over the ocean. She looked so damn sad and he knew it was his fault. “Because I need the distraction.”

“From me.” He should hand off her protection to someone else. Someone who didn’t make her miserable. How had he screwed this up so badly?

She met his gaze, her smile wobbling. “From everything,” she said. “Work helps me like it helps you.”

He was hardly convinced. “Okay. After the interview, we’ll go to the bar until we know the next steps.”

“Thanks.” She pulled her key from the pocket in her shorts and climbed into the old Wrangler.

“Dahlia?” He barely kept his hands to himself. “Where do we stand? Personally.”

She stared at him and he couldn’t look away. He’d screwed up. Badly. But he still wanted her for as long as she’d have him.

“We’re fine, Quinn.” She reached out and grabbed his shirt, hauling him close for a kiss. “Bodyguard.” She patted his chest. “Charge.” She tapped her finger on her chest. “And we indulge in each other as time permits.” Her smile flashed, but there was a sharp edge. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Not even close. He had miles to go to make this right. “I’ll follow you.”

With a nod, she started her car and waited for him to pull up behind her. If he’d thought the drive would soften her, he was dead wrong. She remained distant as she traded vehicles at her house, making sure she had the motorcycle at the ranch.

He didn’t feel like arguing over transportation when he would be driving or following her from now until this case ended. Unless Castle called. For the first time, he hoped for no news on that front. If the feds didn’t finish this in a week, Quinn might be forced to rely on someone else to keep Dahlia safe.

The theory alone put a prickle between his shoulder blades. Maybe one of his pals would take over. Day by day, it was clear none of them wanted to leave Hawaii. There was just too much potential for a better life out here.

As he watched Dahlia speak with the Secret Service, it was hard to focus. His mind kept drifting to personal possibilities. Was Hawaii for him? Could he be content with Hawk’s Brotherhood Protectors? If so, he had to find a way to manage it on his own.

He’d already concluded that he didn’t trust the teams without his friends, no matter what Castle worked out for Fuller and his cronies. Someone else would have to step up and keep the teams clean.

But he couldn’t stay simply because of his affection and desire for Dahlia. That way was just begging for another slap in the face.

When they reached the bar that afternoon, he was no closer to understanding what Steen’s persistence was about. Maybe, like Quinn, the guy simply had a crush on her.

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered under his breath as he walked her in.

“What doesn’t matter?” she asked.

“Steen’s focus on you,” he replied immediately. “I’m not convinced knowing why would change our approach, so I need to let it go.”

She slipped her hand in his, the first time she’d initiated any contact all day. That knot in his chest loosened a bit more. “He’ll be gone soon enough,” she assured him. “The Secret Service is coming at them full force.”

He stopped her before she opened the back door. “Would it bother you if I’m on the strike team?”

“No.” She studied his face, her fingers trailing over his beard. “Why would it?”

“Could be dangerous.”

“But you’re an expert in dangerous situations, right?”

He nodded. “Damn straight.”

“Then I’d be more bothered if you weren’t on the strike team.” She pulled his face to hers for a sweet kiss. “Just catch the bad guys and come back in one piece.”

“Deal.” His voice nearly cracked. Was her easy acceptance genuine, or a byproduct of his screw up? Maybe he’d successfully pushed her away and she didn’t care anymore.

Why the hell did that hurt?

Not the time to analyze. He was on duty and her life might depend on his focus. He opened the door and wished her a good shift as he walked in and took up a post where he wouldn’t be in the way while he watched over her. Once she was set up and behind the bar, his job was easier and he could check in with the guys about the recon.

Carter, Bowie, and Flint rolled in a few hours later, just after what amounted to a dinner rush. The bar was busy, but not packed, and Quinn joined them at a table within view of the bar.

“How’d things go?” he asked.

“No, no, no.” Bowie shook his head. “A certain surfer girl told me you hurt my favorite bartender.”

“After we kicked ass setting up that picnic for you,” Flint groused.

“Thanks for that,” Quinn said. “And we worked it out.”

His three best friends scoffed in unison.

“It’s none of your business,” Quinn insisted. Except it was clear they wouldn’t share until he did. “Fine.” Where to start? The beginning wasn’t right and he didn’t want to paint Dahlia as needy or pressuring when she was neither. “Cassie sent us to check out a place in Kona.”

“And?” Bowie urged him to get to the point.

“Things got hairy. We were nearly caught, but we got enough evidence to put things in motion today.” He looked at each of his friends in turn. “Now spill.”

Bowie leaned back in his chair, his arms folded. “Keep going.”

Quinn steeled himself. “Adrenaline spiked, the picnic got seriously sexy, and everything was good.”

“Until?”

Quinn glared at Carter. “Until I reminded her I’m not cut out for relationships.”

“You’re full of crap,” Flint declared. “I’m on her side.”

“Since when?” Quinn demanded.

“Me too,” Bowie cut in. “You’re full of crap and excuses.” He leaned forward and stabbed a finger at Quinn. “If that’s the best you’ve got, she deserves better.”

“We worked it out,” Quinn insisted.

Carter glanced over at the bar, clearly unconvinced. “Do better or things will be awkward as hell during the holidays.”

If he was even here during the holidays. Then again, where else would he be? These three men were his family. Within a week, each of them would decide if they were done with the SEAL teams.

Sitting here, Quinn knew he should call it. Be done. He’d had a great career, even if it ended poorly. His heart just wasn’t in it after the near miss with Fuller and his enterprising criminal crew.

“Has anyone heard from Castle?” Bowie asked, his knee jumping.

“Not lately.” Quinn shook his head and looked around the table. “Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters,” Carter muttered. “They can’t get away with it.”

Quinn lifted his eyebrows. “So if Castle gave the all-clear right now, you’d go back to the teams.”

“Oh.” Carter’s gaze drifted toward the office, even though Mia wasn’t there. “Point taken, man.”

It was all the confirmation Quinn needed. His friends had changed in Hawaii. Priorities had shifted. For the good, no doubt. He liked the women they were involved with, the women who had opened their eyes to another option. A civilian pace with some life balance added into the equation. His friends wouldn’t need to bust ass to stay fit and sharp as the new gen guys filtered in. They had something new to fight for. Something personal to protect and defend.

Damn if he wasn’t a tiny bit jealous. “How did the recon go?”

He had to change the subject. It was that or say a bunch of crap he hadn’t thought through. Dahlia was right about his family foundation. These men were the core. Three brothers who were so much more than teammates. In the past he might’ve said his reliance on them was a weakness. But their bond was an underestimated strength.

Going back just to make sure the teams stayed clean wasn’t enough of a reason. His gaze slid to Dahlia. Not anymore.

“We handled it,” Flint said, a grin on his face. “Hawk’s got some seriously fun equipment.”

Bowie rolled his eyes. “That drone made him feel like a god. You know how he is.”

“He took a pass over a coffee plantation too,” Carter complained.

“For practice,” Flint defended himself. “We got a good look at the trawler in dock. It’s not being serviced, just waiting. No crew around when we were there.”

“We sent the intel back up the line,” Carter took up the report. “We were told all four of us are on stand-by for when the feds want to move.”

“Good.” Quinn scanned the bar, almost wishing some kind of hell would break loose. “Thanks for the assist.”

“Are you kidding?” Bowie laughed. “Trolling around with a drone, taking in the sights, and no one shooting at us? Best op ever, man.”

“Could get dicey on the takedown,” Quinn warned. He thought about the warehouse and the brush with hard consequences. “Considering what’s involved, these guys won’t give up without a fight.”

“Bring it,” Bowie declared. “We’ll kick ass.”

Carter raised his beer bottle and they all shared a toast to that.